


Some More of the Same (But A Little Different)

by kissesfromkrug



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fantasizing, Look-a-likes, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: Taylor thinks about Ryan having phone sex in way more detail than he should.





	Some More of the Same (But A Little Different)

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, fictional; feel free to point out any typos. :)
> 
> Oh dear this was not supposed to be this long ohhhhh dear...
> 
> Also, ignore the fact that Hallsy and Gags roomed together in real life; in this they don't (I realized it a bit too late) and I don't care enough to go back through everything.
> 
> I'm also still in the editing process, so excuse weird typos and plot holes. :)

"Who's this?" Jordan asks, leaning over to show Taylor his phone.

"Who?"

"Nuge found himself a nice little friend while I was off the interweb." Taylor chews on his lip as he stares in disbelief, choosing not to correct Jordan.

"Little is right," Taylor says with an unrestrained huff. "This real?"

"Oh yeah. But - friends they are not," Jordan snorts, swiping to see the rest of the photos, the third showing Ryan planting a sweet kiss on his probably-girlfriend's lips. And what lips they are. "You know..."

Taylor peers closer at the girl, who's wearing an Oilers shirsey. He frowns. Ryan's never dated a fan...never really openly dated _anyone_ , now that he thinks about it.

"This girl looks like a female version of you." Taylor quickly looks over at Jordan with ridiculously raised eyebrows. "No, like, seriously. Her hair's the same color, you got the same eyebrows, same face shape-"

"I do _not_ look like a girl!" He demands, voice raising a bit.

"She looks like you, I said," Jordan corrects, pulling his phone back close to his face and squinting. "But now that you mention it..." He takes Taylor's jaw in one hand and pinches a cheek. Taylor yelps and smacks him away. "Yeah, you look like her too!"

"Oh, fuck off!" Jordan just laughs and screenshots Ryan's pictures, and within moments Taylor's phone beeps. "You did not." Jordan only laughs, and Taylor tackles him off the couch. 

• • •

"She either got lip work done or she's your female doppelgänger," Jordan insists in Taylor's ear when Ryan finally introduces his girlfriend to them. It's on an off day, and Jordan brought his girlfriend along as well when they decide to check out a new steakhouse for dinner in downtown Edmonton.

"Thousands of chicks have their lips done, she's not _special_ or anything," Taylor scoffs, a little too loudly. Luckily, no one else hears it, but the smack Jordan gives to Taylor's arm is loud enough.

When Ryan's girlfriend - Kimberly, or Kim - returns from the restroom, Jordan decides to pipe up his thoughts. "You know, you kinda look like Taylor," he says, and Taylor chokes on his soda.

"What - the fuck," he gets out, and Jordan thumps him on the back while adding helpfully,

"A female Taylor." Kim grins a bit uneasily and looks to Ryan, whose eyes have widened quite noticeably. She stares at Taylor for several seconds and says,

"I kinda do, I guess?" She laughs a bit nervously. "I hope that's a compliment?"

"Of course!" Jordan smiles. "Hallsy, don't get excited." Taylor keeps Ryan in the corner of his eye, the younger man visibly uncomfortable.

"You doin' okay?" Taylor asks after their food has arrived, Kim chatting with Lauren, Jordan's girlfriend. Ryan drops his fork with a loud clatter and mumbles something about sore hands.

"Fine, thanks," he says in a clipped voice, attacking his steak without looking up.

"You sure?" Ryan pauses for a strangely long time.

"Ask me later." Taylor wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, Ryan's request taking a minute to sink in.

"Oh! You wanna talk about-"

"Shh - and yes, later," Ryan hisses in a much softer tone than Taylor. "Eat."

"Gotcha," Taylor says with a nod, and Jordan kicks him in the ankle.

• • •

"You doin' okay?" Taylor repeats, when it's just him and Ryan in the living room. Jordan is off fucking around in the kitchen, so Taylor has less than ten minutes before Jordan breaks or destroys something and needs help to clean it up.

"Yeah, just-" Ryan rubs his forehead as he thinks.

"You said you'd give me something more than that," Taylor says. "C'mon. You just don't feel well? Edmonton's little angel feeling sick, is he? Ate something he didn't like?"

"Shut up, no," Ryan says as Taylor coos at him in a high-pitched voice. "It's...it's not what you think."

"Is it what Ebby said about your girl?" Taylor says, then asking, "Wait, what isn't what I think?"

"No, Ebs - what he said is fine..." Ryan stares off out the window, and Taylor smacks him in the thigh when it's been longer than 10 seconds. "Ow, wait a second. Geez."

"I wanna know what I don't think," Taylor insists. "Come _on_." He immediately regrets his whining as Ryan looks over at him with sad eyes. _Shit_. "I mean-"

"I'm not - she's not supposed to look like you," Ryan gets out, and Taylor raises his eyebrows ridiculously high. "Do you understand that? Like, it's her personality, not the fact that - okay, she kinda looks like you - but whatever. No biggie, right? That's not why I'm with her."

"Dude."

"Yeah?" Ryan looks unnaturally nervous, like the first day he met Taylor. Shy eyes and a soft voice, but a helluva handshake.

"I literally never thought that," Taylor says, "That's just Ebs being weird." He ignores the voice in his head telling him that he'll never have a chance, which has become louder than ever in the past few minutes. _He'll never love you, Taylor, he's straight as they come, so don't even try. He'll isolate you after that, and you know it. You're a fucking loser, falling in love with your best friend._

"Hallsy?"

"I'm fine," Taylor says automatically. "Good. Just great."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Taylor swipes at his eyes, trying to push the forming tears away, and there's a loud crash from the kitchen, as predicted. "Eyelash in my eye."

"Just a pan!" Jordan calls, muttering something under his breath before adding, "With a shit ton of stuff in it."

"I'm gonna-" Ryan jerks his thumb towards the kitchen, but Taylor waves him off.

"Nah, I got it." Ryan shifts in his spot on the couch and pulls out his phone, and Taylor peeks in to see Jordan kneeling down, half-cooked scrambled eggs scattered all over the tile floor.

"Why the fuck are you making eggs?" He laughs. Jordan looks up, mildly upset.

"'Cause you bet me $20 I couldn't, so I wanted to cash in."

"This doesn't count as a win if they're on the floor," Taylor says, still just watching Jordan gather the yellow bits onto the pan, dumping them in the sink with a sad sigh.

"So much for helping," Jordan says, "And what a waste of eggs." He turns to Taylor. "I _really_ wanted to make those eggs." More like he just really wanted $20.

"Shame." Taylor sticks out his hand. "Where's my $20?"

"Asshole. I'll learn eventually."

"In 50 years, when $20 will be worth like three bucks, probably," Taylor says, leaving Jordan dejected by the sink. "Yo, Nugget. Movie time?" Ryan bites his lip and puts down his phone - probably talking to his _girlfriend_.

"I, uh-"

"If you wanna talk to your girl, that's good too," Jordan interjects, coming in to flop on the right-side cushion of the couch next to Ryan. "Taylor and I can watch your favorite movie without you. Or, you can-"

Ryan looks suddenly even more uncomfortable as his phone begins to ring, and Taylor just laughs. "Nah, Ebby, he's got an electro-booty call on his agenda. Too busy for us."

"Fuck off," Ryan mutters, but Taylor "ooh"s after him as he makes his way to his bedroom. Jordan is relaxed as he laughs at the thought, but Taylor - well, Taylor just says things as they come to his head, and they're not always good things.

Electro-booty call? _Really_?

The only thing is, as Jordan puts on an action movie, Taylor is stuck thinking about Ryan jerking off for a voice on the phone, putting on a show for just them. Maybe it'd be Skype, and they'd get to see how he pulled himself over the edge, if his face scrunches up, or if he talks a lot during it. Maybe he just sighs and gasps into the touch, squirming but barely allowing himself a moan. Maybe he rubs his nipples, pinches his bruises, maybe he's adventurous enough to try to finger himself - Taylor is getting fucking hard on the couch, what the fuck.

He can't seem to stop his intrusive thoughts, especially when he starts to think about what Ryan's dick might look like hard, since - well, they're teammates, so there's not a chance in the world he would've looked away when given the right view.

Taylor thinks about Ryan having phone sex in  _way_ more detail than he should.

• • •

"Not hanging out with Kim today?" Jordan asks as they lounge on the couch, having finished a long day of mostly video games.

"No, she works till 2 and has three classes till 9," Ryan says sadly.

"School?"

"Law school." Ryan pauses, trying to think of something positive. "She told me she'd call during her break, though, so it shouldn't be too bad. I can deal."

"Oooh," Taylor calls loudly from Ryan's left side, laughing when Ryan elbows him. "More cellular sexy times, eh?" Taylor wants to shove his foot, shoe and all, in his own mouth sometimes. He's probably not the only one.

"Shut up, we don't do that _every_ time." Ryan immediately flushes after he says it, realizing the chirp material he's provided his teammates.

"So you admit it!"

"Fuck off," Ryan says. Jordan knocks into his knee and says,

"I don't blame ya, bud. Being away for a long time is always hard." Ryan stares at him suspiciously, unable to tell if it's a joke.

Taylor's mind has since drifted to Ryan alone in his room, picturing him trailing his fingers over his exposed cock, panting as he plucks at his sensitive nipples. He can almost hear Ryan's ragged voice, and eyes squeezed shut.

He's started to have visions of Ryan that have very clear direction, unlike the first, which was a bunch of ideas floating inside his confused head. Luckily - or unluckily - they've cleared up, and the images are good enough to jerk off to.

"Um, Hallsy? Bud?" Taylor blinks in surprise and releases his lip where he was chewing it between his teeth.

"Hm?"

"You need a little private time too?" Jordan asks, raising an eyebrow and grinning at him. Ryan's already left the room for his special phone call...fantastic. "You seem a little...out of it."

"I'm fine," Taylor says, grabbing one of the couch pillows and curling up with it in the left corner of the dark green couch. Jordan doesn't have to know that it's not just because he wants a cuddle.

"Dude." Taylor looks over at Jordan, remote still in hand as he smirks back. "You don't have to stay here."

"Fuck you," Taylor says quickly, tossing the pillow at his face. "I said I'm _fine_." Jordan continues to stare at him with a smirk. "Fuck off, loser, don't you have a girlfriend to talk to too?"

"In fact, I do," Jordan says proudly, and Taylor huffs. He knows what's coming next. "You wanna see a picture of us?"

"Nope."

"Look, Hallsy, c'mon. It's just one picture."

"Ebs, I really don't care," Taylor says testily, refusing to look at the phone screen. "Dude."

"Look at it." Taylor curls his lip and takes a split second look at the photo, hardly catching anything in it.

"There, I saw it. Happy now?" He says.

"Didn't you look?" Jordan asks in confusion, choosing to ignore Taylor's temper for the time being.

"Uh, yeah, but if you're going to-"

"You obviously didn't fucking look at it, buddy," Jordan interrupts, shoving his phone inches from Taylor's nose. Taylor is about to protest when he actually processes what he's looking at.

"What the-"

"Just _look,_ " Jordan says authoritatively, wiggling the phone. "With your eyes. Not your mouth." Taylor really doesn't understand why Jordan has this, or why it's being shown to him, but it's definitely not a picture of Jordan and his girlfriend like usual. _Definitely_ not.

"Where did you get that?" Taylor breathes, and honestly, it's not even that dirty of a picture, just...hard-hitting.

"I took it, dumb-ass," Jordan says, lowering his voice a fraction. "He was up early and I was coming in from the living room and boom! - there he was, in your fucking shirt." Taylor squeezes his eyes shut, reopening them to see the same image staring back at him. Ryan standing at the sink, wearing only boxer briefs and an Oilers t-shirt with "Hall" written in big block letters across the back.

What the actual fuck.

"Does he know?" Taylor asks, gripping Jordan's shoulders. "That you know?"

Jordan wrinkles his nose. "Of course not. And I didn't take it for me."

"Well, duh, it's my name on his back," Taylor says. "But like - you could've just told me?" He's still in shock.

"Nah, this gets a way better reaction. Besides-" Jordan scrolls through a few photos, then showing his selection to Taylor, who promptly chokes on air.

"The fuck are you, a stalker?" He says in a strained voice, being suddenly reminded of the issue in his pants. "The fuck is this?"

"Thought you'd know when you saw it, seeing as you're always looking," Jordan says with a wink and knowing grin.

"Am _not_." Taylor hasn't taken his eyes off the photo of Ryan bending over to get something from the fridge, ass straining at the gray material of his briefs. There's a sliver of pale skin visible below the hem of the shirt - his shirt - holy fuck, Taylor still can't believe Ryan wore _his_ shirt.

"You gonna talk to him about this?" Jordan asks, all flirty and excited.

"Fuck, no. This is not something we will ever discuss again. Absolutely not." Taylor sits back and crosses his arms, then rethinking his decision and climbing up off the couch.

"Hallsy-"

"No, what the hell, dude? _Fuck_  no, we're not talking about this! What am I supposed to say, 'oh, one morning Ebs caught you wearing my shirt and was being a goddamn fucking weirdo so he took like ten photos and showed me so here I am'?"

" _No_ , you dumbass, you just-"

"No. Nope. Not happening. Not a chance." Taylor waves his arms and slowly backs up.

"Hallsy, you gotta-"

"I gotta go, gotta - see you tomorrow, bye, have a good night." Taylor has to take deep breaths in order to not slam his bedroom door. He doesn't lock it, either - which is probably something he might regret later - before he flops on his back and stares at the ceiling.

He rubs his hands over his face, the image of Ryan standing out starkly against the inside of his eyelids. "What the fuck?"

There's a soft groan from the next room, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what Ryan's up to. Taylor listens intently, not hearing any voices for several minutes when suddenly -

"Yeah, fuck, want you to suck me off," he hears Ryan gasp, "That fucking mouth, oh my god." He groans again, and before Taylor can think better of it, he reaches down and palms his cock through his sweats.

He listens to Ryan's muffled noises, holding himself and unsure of whether it'd be okay to maybe get off to the sounds. "Fuck, yes, please," Ryan moans uncharacteristically loudly - "uncharacteristically", yeah, like Taylor's heard what Ryan sounds like getting off. Maybe he's always this loud and just finds time when no one's around. Still, if Jordan didn't hear that, it's a miracle.

"Fuck it," Taylor hisses, moving to the beanbag chair that sits against the wall between their rooms. He shoves his pants and underwear down around his knees and licks a stripe up his palm, tilts his head in the way that'll help him hear Ryan best, and begins to jerk himself off quickly. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, his hips shifting up into his tight grip.

"I'm gonna - please," Ryan begs, "Please let me, I-I swear I'll be good. I'll be good for him, I'll do whatever you say - c'mon, fuck-" Ryan's more mouthy than Taylor would've expected - but no one's saying it's a bad thing.

Taylor slows his strokes, thumbing over the head and loosening his grip. He runs two fingers up along the underside of his dick as Ryan whines, "Please,  _fuck-_ " If he was a stronger man, he might actually admit that it's pretty much only Ryan's voice doing it for him. But, alas, Taylor Hall likes his dignity.

He closes his eyes and pictures Ryan's movements, his position, the way his mouth curves over the groans and stuttered words. He pictures Ryan on hands and knees on his bed, thrusting into his fist with a rather loose, teasing grip; lips wet and red, maybe swollen from biting them; face and shoulders flushed red from exertion, or possibly embarrassment.

Taylor hears another noise from the next room, this one so blatantly sexual that he squeezes the base of his cock just in case and lets his head fall back against the wall. He wants to come when Ryan does.

"Please, oh god, _please_ ," Ryan begs breathily, voice getting fainter. Taylor has never heard Ryan in such a state of distress - even if the main focus is getting off. Ryan's never lost his cool, and especially not like this.

Taylor licks his hand again and resumes the bruising pace he'd started with as Ryan's words soon fade to soft moans. They really need thicker walls if Taylor wants to stay sane.

All of a sudden, there's a thud like the dropping of a phone, and Ryan cries out, "Fuck, babe, I'm good - I'm gonna-" The rest of his sentence is cut off by a low groan seemingly punched out of his lungs, and it's just what Taylor needs to come all over his fist.

"Oh my god," Taylor breathes, resting for a long minute before stripping off his dirty shirt and hoping that he'll be able to get the stain out of it. He sits perfectly still to listen if Ryan has any more to say, but the only thing he hears is,

"Thanks." Taylor takes that as his cue to grab a towel and run to the shower, definitely locking the bathroom door before twisting the dial.

Ryan will be the death of him.

• • •

Taylor doesn't catch Ryan for the next month, having to rely on the memory of what Ryan sounds like when Taylor jerks off in the shower. Taylor doesn't mind thinking about it, but really, he'd like some new material.

There's one night - it's a nice brisk night, Taylor coming back early from a late adventure in NYC with the boys. He needs his phone charger for a bit, so he quietly unlocks the door (not yelling when he comes in like usual, Ryan's supposed to be sleeping) and slips in the hotel room.

Ryan isn't on either bed, so Taylor assumes he's gone down to find the rest of them until he hears a low moan from the bathroom. _Oh_.

"Pretend?" Ryan pants, and if Taylor puts his ear against the door, he'll probably be able to hear the slick sounds of Ryan's hand moving over his cock. "I can't - he's not you. It's different." A pause. "Ah - babe, I'm trying, okay?"

Taylor bites down hard on his lip as Ryan lets out a half-moan, half laugh. " _No_ , he's not here, are you crazy?" Taylor raises an eyebrow.

 _Who_ isn't here? Him?

"No, it's not - yeah, perfect." More quiet, but Taylor can hear Ryan's heavy breathing if he takes a few steps closer to the closed door. "'Obviously' - yeah, I know, but like - what can I do? I can't just-" Ryan cuts himself off, and a few seconds later he groans again. "Fuck, yes, oh my -  _yes_  I want it."

Taylor is hard in his skinny jeans, but he's not about to jerk it in such a risky place. Anyone could walk in, Ryan could walk out - and that's one conversation with him Taylor never wants to have.

"Just - yeah? That's what I wanna hear? Or you?" Taylor has a hand pressed to his crotch, the other tightly gripping the phone charger as Ryan suddenly cries out, tiny moans falling from his lips. Taylor is two seconds from leaving when he hears the final whimper: "Fuck, Taylor, _please_ -"

Taylor barely holds back a surprised gasp with heart thudding in his chest, quickly squeezing at his length through his jeans. There's a shuffling inside, slow and heavy breathing, and Taylor takes that as his sign to go. He slides back out the door, running down the hallway and hoping his clothes don't reveal too much.

Instead of the elevator, Taylor speeds down the stairs to a ledge between two floors, falling against the wall and trying to steady his heart rate. _"Fuck, Taylor, please-"_ The words still echo in his head, Ryan's voice high and desperate. Taylor squeezes his eyes shut, but that only helps the image forming in his head of Ryan moaning his name.

"Fucking shit," Taylor curses, rubbing his face and trying to get Ryan out of his head. It doesn't work, no matter what he does, so he pulls out his nearly-dead phone - wait, he was supposed to charge it in their room, dammit - and surfs social media.

As is his luck, there's a new post about Ryan, Taylor, and Jordan being one of the hottest lines in the league. Conveniently enough, there's a picture of him and Ryan hugging and yelling in each other's faces while Jordan comes up behind them with a huge gap-toothed smile. Because Taylor needs one more picture of Ryan to think about.

Taylor growls in frustration and shuts off his phone, trying to think of everything bad that could possibly happen - every person he hates, all the foods that he'd rather jump into a pit of snakes for than eat. He thinks of the time Corey stepped on his face during warmups and he got 30 stitches and a black eye, of the time he twisted his ankle in a fight, of the time he drank too much and threw up all over Jordan's dashboard.

Once his brain is mostly Ryan-free (since when is there a time when he's _really_ forgotten about Ryan?), Taylor huffs and takes the rest of the stairs down, hoping he's sufficiently managed the situation in his pants.

"You're back fast," Jordan says, taking note of Taylor's still mildly embarrassed expression. "Wasn't your phone on like, 10%? Is Nuge still sleeping?" So much for _not_  thinking about Ryan.

And uh...sleeping. Right. He was supposed to be "sleeping". Apparently Ryan has a different definition of nap time than the rest of the team.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess," Taylor says unevenly.

"You guess?" Jordan frowns. "You're not sure? Didn't you go up there?"

"Yeah...yeah he is. Didn't know if he was pretending," Taylor says quickly, correcting himself. "Probably didn't wanna see me or something." Jordan sends him a look that would most certainly have been followed by a suggestive comment if not for their teammates standing within feet of them.

"Wanna hit up one more place to see if anyone will take a chance on your dumb ass?" Jordan asks instead, grinning. "Might have a little luck tonight, eh?"

"Fuck off, I don't need luck to pick up."

"Are we going or what?" Darnell interjects, and Jordan claps Taylor on the back and slings an arm over his shoulder.

"Hell yeah we are," he answers with a smile, not-so-subtly elbowing Taylor as he moves away.

"You're just gonna leave me?" Ryan asks from behind them, and Taylor whirls around to see him straightening his shirt as he comes toward them. If he didn't know what Ryan had been doing, he would've thought Ryan's voice was still raspy from sleep.

If.

"Of course not," Jordan says with a big smile, much like the one in the picture Taylor found. "We need to find you - oh, wait - how's the girl doing? Kim?"

Ryan goes a little pink, refusing to make eye contact with Taylor as he stares Ryan down. "We, uh..." He winces, and Taylor is a bit confused.

Jordan looks suddenly guilty, and he takes a step closer. "Dude, I'm sorry, I didn't know," he says somberly, seeming to understand the words Ryan left unsaid. "Wanna do shots with me?"

"Okay." Jordan wraps an arm around Ryan, and Ryan smiles a bit as the group makes their way out of the hotel and into the brisk east coast air.

Taylor just shoves his hands in his pockets and seriously tries to forget what Ryan sounds like saying his name while coming, but only being able to forget that his phone is on 7%.

• • •

Taylor hates himself for staring at Ryan's dimples. It doesn't help with his attempts to not get off to Ryan, his brain conjuring up situations where Ryan begs Taylor to come on his face, across his cheeks and chin and bright red lips.

Taylor's dreams aren't helping either, the images so vivid that he wakes up in a cold sweat, hard and shaking. Sometimes there are boners that he just can't will away, having to stumble to the shower at 4 am to be able to get rid of them.

He notices Ryan's sudden awkwardness around him when they're not on the ice, avoiding his gaze in the locker room and not sitting next to him when they go out for team dinners or drinks. Jordan, somehow, doesn't see it, and always wants to hang out with the two of them. Not that Taylor minds, just - Ryan doesn't want it.

Taylor tries sneaking snacks into Ryan's locker before practices, since Ryan's refused rides from him with the excuse that he wants a little extra sleep. Ryan seems surprised by the food but doesn't refuse it, and Taylor hides grins from his spot a few stalls down.

One day, he finds himself in the shower jerking off to Ryan (again), but this time he's not thinking about Ryan's delicate face, or his nice ass, or the muscles that he's been building up all over. He doesn't think of what he'd look like getting fucked, nor how he looks right after he's come, not even how hot he sounds when he's close.

Nope. This time Taylor's fucking jerking it to Ryan's laugh.

He is so damn screwed.

• • •

Taylor catches Ryan staring at a photo of his girlfriend - or whatever she is now, since him and Jordan seemed to have had that telepathic communication the previous week that Taylor missed out on.

"Dude," Taylor says, leaning over the back of Ryan's chair when they're finishing a meal at home, and Ryan drops his phone in his lap in surprise. "Butter fingers, eh?"

"Just focusing," Ryan mumbles, shutting it off and setting it face down on the table.

"On what?" Taylor prompts, completely expecting the resulting glare he gets from Ryan. "Seriously though. You uh, miss her?"

"Eh. Kind of." It's not the response Taylor was expecting, but closer to the one he wants.

"She's got a nice face," he comments casually, and Ryan narrows his eyes.

"Yeah."

"I can see why you're attracted to her." Ryan bites down hard on his lip, shifting in his seat. "You done?" Taylor asks, pointing to the half-empty plate. Ryan nods and gets up, leaving his phone lying next to his glass.

Taylor would say something if he wasn't so interested in what else Ryan has on his phone.

Taylor casually sits down in Ryan's spot as he disappears to take a shower, twirling the spoon between his fingers before turning over Ryan's phone. Ryan is unsurpisingly unpredictable in his passcode, and Taylor tries multiple things, including the year the Oilers last won the Cup, Ryan's birthday, his draft year, and his jersey number repeated. Nothing.

Out of curiosity Taylor types in "1114", his own birthdate, in the slot. Ryan's phone unlocks, and he's greeted with a background of Jordan and Taylor sitting on either side of Ryan on their couch, playing video games. Taylor is oddly touched.

He looks behind him, hearing the shower turn on, and decides it's safe to check Ryan's messages. The most recent one is from Kim, which is, interestingly enough, the name of the contact. No cutesy names or emojis or anything.

Taylor scrolls to the top where Ryan has evidently deleted the majority of their conversations, but their most recent one is still available for investigation. 

_K: he'd fuck u if u asked_

_R: no_

_R: he would not_

Yes. Yes he would.

_K: like u know. he'd prolly fuck anything that mildly hinted at it_

_R: he's not like that_

_R: I mean_

_R: well....._

_K: u need 2 talk 2 him bout this_

_K: ik we look really alike, but u can't just use me 4ever_

Just in case Taylor needed any confirmation about the subject of this conversation.

_K: if u wanna b happy u have 2 talk 2 him_

_R: I can't._

_K: y????_

_R: he'll get freaked the fuck out, duh_

_R: I still wanna be friends with him_

_K: u think he'll forget ur friendship cuz u have feelings?_

_R: they're pretty weird feelings for a best friend, it's not supposed to work like this_

_R: I just_

_R: it'd never work out but I want him so fucking bad and shdjfjdksfhsuakfkdigd_

_K: I'd say it's an *obsessive infatuation  
_

_K: now that u word it like that_

_K: "shdjfjdksfhsuakfkdigd" very intelligent sounding_

_R: i just_

_R: I can't stop_

_K: can't stop what??_

_K: calling me? thinking bout him? trying to ignore your heart? watching every single video of him?_

_R: anything. everything._

Taylor blinks in surprise, sitting back in the chair. And he thought _he_ was in deep...

_K: dude......_

_R: I screwed up_

_K: u fucked up big time_

_R: yeah.._

_R: why the fuck do I have feelings_

_R: at all_

_R: why is he my teammate, my fucking best friend_

Taylor sighs and thinks, same. He continues reading, the messages not what he'd expected at all. He clicked for dirty talk and stayed for the emotional venting session.

_R: why am I so fucking stupid_

_K: ur not stupid_

_R: then why the fuck did this happen???? why the fuck am I in love w my best friend????_

_K: stuff happens that way sometimes_

_K: it's not necessarily bad_

_R: I wanna die_

_K: I don't want u 2_

_K: bc u haven't even asked him or said anything bout anything_

_R: I CANT_

_K: DUDE. U CAN. DONT THINK ABOUT IT._

_R: how can I NOT?!_

_K: ry....._

_K: the more u dwell on it the worse u will get. I promise u that_

_R: I can't talk to him about this, I literally can't_

_K: suck it the fuck up and deal w it_

Taylor almost snorts out loud. The only reason he doesn't is because his entire world has been shaken at its foundation. He can't believe what he's reading.

_K: I can't help u every step of the way_

_K: but u cant deal w it like a teenage girl with a crush on the popular guy_

_K: just GO for it_

_R: but I'm not like that though_

_K: then get like that_

_K: I don't wanna hear that u died cuz u were heartbroken cuz the loyl started dating some1 else_

_R: loyl?_

_K: the love of ur life_

_K: u can't let him go about life in his constant obliviousness_

_K: he's blind to a lot, ok??? u gotta help him out a bit ;)_

Taylor swallows hard at the double meaning, and he feels a jolt of arousal in the pit of his stomach as he reads Ryan's replies.

_R: true.._

_R: the only issue with our thing is that I can't practice_

_K: practice what?? ;)_

_R: giving a blowie_

_R: obviously it doesn't work on you_

_K: no shit_

_K: n besides, he's got the best mouth 4 it_

_K: wonder how much he's done...;) ;) ;)_

_K: he'd prolly make ur year_

_R: I don't wanna think about it_

_K: u should_

_R: you just told me not to_

_K: JUST TALK 2 THE GUY OMFG_

_K: ur on ur own from now on_

_R: what_

_K: tell him how u feel <3_

_R: what the fuck_

_R: how_

There's several minutes of a break between that message and the following ones.

_R: um hello???_

_R: still need help here_

_R: please_

_R: pleeeeeaassseeee_

_R: fuckin come onnn_

_R: hey._

That's the end of the conversation. Taylor wants to check out one more thing, going to the thread between himself and Ryan. His contact name is Hallsy (normal, okay), followed by the hockey stick and net emojis, a heart eyes one, and a broken heart.

Taylor slams the phone down face up on the table and tips the chair back. He nearly falls off the back off it, opting for flopping on the couch and screaming into the cushion.

The talk is almost an exact replica of what Taylor went through while suffering through Ryan and his "girlfriend" - who apparently was just a fuck-buddy to distract Ryan from his real goal. But really, could he have made it more obvious? Jordan picked up on the looks thing the first time he saw her.

The shower turns off, and Taylor curls up in a ball on the couch and clicks on the remote to turn the tv on. He needs a good distraction.

• • •

Taylor, apparently, has a one track mind and is not easily distracted from him goals. For instance, he tries every possible brain technique he knows to try and forget Ryan's messages back and forth with Kim, but nothing works. He thinks about how Ryan still hasn't talked to him about it and it's been over a week. He thinks about how she called him obsessive. He thinks about Jordan's photo of Ryan in Taylor's shirt.

It's all stuff that he really shouldn't be thinking about and especially not getting off to, but it's just Taylor's luck that he's got an imagination that just won't quit.

Taylor leans his forehead against the shower wall, imagining Ryan on the bed, open and ready for him. Ryan's smirking proudly as he holds up the lube, reaching down and easily sliding one finger in himself. Taylor's breath catches, both in his imagination and real life, and his slick hand moves even faster over his ridiculously hard cock.

"Fucking hell," he gasps, biting down hard on his lip as he sees himself fingering open Ryan, getting to hear every one of his little whines and whispered swears. He sees Ryan's face scrunch up as he finally slides home, dimples visible every time Ryan moves his mouth even slightly. Luckily for Taylor and his dick - or perhaps it's more unlucky - Ryan's constantly making faces and moaning about how good Taylor is.

In real life, Ryan probably isn't this loud - going by a few jerk off sessions while on the phone with Taylor's lookalike doesn't determine anything - but Taylor enjoys being told how good it is.

He can almost feel himself thrusting into Ryan's tight heat, hand on his dick a blur as he fights back groans. Ryan's nails are phantom touches on his back, hands stroking along Taylor's sides as Ryan chokes out hoarse praises. He cups Taylor's face and drags him down for a sloppy kiss that's mostly tongue, and Taylor shivers, whines, and comes all over the wall.

• • •

It's almost Christmas when Taylor realizes he doesn't just wanna fuck Ryan and his face till he cries.

He finds himself watching Ryan give interviews; play video games; drink his brandy - pretty much anything. He doesn't just focus on Ryan's body or features, either, like he has been for years.

Taylor relishes in every moment that Ryan laughs; listens to him chatter on about his most recent goal to their poor tendy while drunk; adores the way Ryan touches him along his shoulders, the back of his neck, the small of his back. He admittedly stares at Ryan's legs in his skinny jeans a lot more than he should, but that's to be expected. After all, Ryan is fucking gorgeous.

That all being said, it's not really him that figures it out at all.

One day, Gags corners him after a tough loss in Vancouver where Ryan scored the almost-there goal that had them within one. It was beautiful, really, top shelf glove side, and Taylor had proudly gotten the primary assist.

He's just packing his stuff up to leave when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and pulls him back. "What?" He demands, looking up to see Gags glaring at him. "What's wrong now?"

"What's _wrong_?" He asks, as if Taylor is an idiot. "You're not being serious, are you?"

"You're getting upset at me for really no reason, why the fuck would I be joking?" Taylor shoots back, glancing around at the still mostly full locker room. They're some of the only ones talking, and several guys make disapproving eye contact.

"Not here," Gags hisses, dragging Taylor into the hallway and making him drop his bag.

"What is your _problem_?" He demands. "I honestly don't know what the fuck your issue is, but I'm really not in the fucking mood."

"And _I'm_ not in the fucking mood to deal with your stupid ass for another second." Taylor opens his mouth in protest, but no words come out as Gags says, "You're obsessed with him." Taylor doesn't even try to beat his way around the bush.

"How the fuck d'you know?" He asks. Gags only stares at him blankly.

"You couldn't be more obvious, really. All your staring and drunk story-telling and touching - like, dude, you might be blind, but we're not."

"I'm not-"

"It's like you're in love or something," Gags finishes, and Taylor lets out a surprised squeak instead of words. "Honest to god, it's like you can't stop thinking about him or something."

Taylor gulps at the accuracy, wondering how to acknowledge it without providing with extra chirping material. "I'm not in love," he settles for saying, "I just - he's hot."

"If you just thought he was hot you wouldn't wax poetic about his stupid laugh or the times you got in trouble together or how you comforted each other during your injuries," Gags says sternly. Taylor hasn't seen him this serious in who- _knows_ how long.

"No..." It's a weak lie, and they both know it. It's just. How did Taylor not realize how he felt? _His_ _own_ _self_ did not fucking realize the fact that he's in love.

"It's been going on forever, Hallsy, it's about time you speak up." With that he nudges Taylor back to the locker room, a little dazed as he shuffles back in, looking at the ground.

He glances over at Ryan, who for the first time in a while is staring at him. He doesn't look away when Taylor raises an eyebrow, smiling weakly at him before slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way out of the locker room. Taylor stares down at his half-zipped bag, suddenly throwing everything into it and running after Ryan.

"Nuge!" He shouts down the hallway. "Wait - I need - we should talk." Ryan doesn't turn around, but stops to let Taylor catch up.

"Not here," he says lowly. Taylor is about to ask why when Ryan adds, "Don't want an audience."

"I'll come with you and get my car tomorrow morning at practice," Taylor says as he follows Ryan. "Hey. That sound good?"

"Yeah." They load their bags in the trunk, and once Taylor's buckled in the passenger seat he's at a sudden loss for words. "So."

"Um," Taylor starts, voice a little shaky. "So, uh."

"I feel enlightened already," Ryan says as they drive, smiling a bit when Taylor rolls his eyes, a tiny bit more comfortable.

"Really, uh, I just wanted to ask? No, fuck, er - I wanted to tell you something." Ryan is silent, the sound of the tires on asphalt the only thing they can hear, except for maybe Taylor's heartbeat in his own ears.

Taylor made absolutely no plan for this and most definitely should have.

"I'm in love. Uh. With you," he gets out, and Ryan speeds right through a stop sign with eyes wide.

"You couldn't have told me while I was stopped?" He asks, not even sounding angry. It's more...pleasantly surprised. Taylor doesn't know how to handle it.

"Nope."

"What a dick," Ryan says, shaking his head, and Taylor cracks a smile.

"So uh. Is there any answer for that?" He asks hesitantly.

"Yeah, when we're not driving down a main road."

"You can't multitask?"

"Not like that," Ryan says, looking over at Taylor with a smile.

"Do you, um. Is that okay?"

"Fuck yes, it's okay, oh my god," Ryan exhales, "Yes, my god, I'm kinda-" There's an obnoxious honk, and they look up to see the green light. "Oops."

"Kinda what?" Taylor prompts. Ryan doesn't answer, doesn't say another word until they arrive home. "Go, move, c'mon, I want this reaction asap," he says when Ryan fumbles with his keys.

He pushes Ryan in and back to the wall next to the door, hands on his waist and noses inches apart. "Ry," Taylor says, "I'm kinda in love with you."

"Only kinda?" Before Taylor can answer, Ryan's pushing himself forward into a deep, slightly off-centered kiss that turns out really, really fucking good. Ryan's hands immediately clutch Taylor's shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle before moving down his back and feeling him through his jacket.

"Off," Taylor pants, lips grazing Ryan's as he speaks. He loosens his tie and slides off his jacket, Ryan's eyes wide and surprised. "You wanna...go somewhere else?"

Ryan only kisses him again, lips hot and slick and just about perfect, one hand on the back of Taylor's neck and the other resting on his hip. Taylor bites at Ryan's bottom lip and shivers as the groan ripples through his chest, then licking inside Ryan's mouth as he grabs Ryan's ass with both hands.

Ryan full-body shivers when Taylor squeezes, hoping to leave bruises behind. He uses his hands to guide Ryan away from the wall, blindly trying to direct them to a bedroom. They fall back onto the couch instead, barely breaking the kiss as Ryan stares down at him with huge blown eyes.

"Fuck," he rasps, and Taylor smirks up at him.

"I assume that's a good 'fuck'?"

"You're a good fuck." Taylor can't tell if it was meant to be a lame insult, but it just turned out like an admittance of desire.

"I know right?" Taylor grins, and Ryan just dives back down, shaky fingers working at Taylor's zipper as Taylor gets the message. Ryan's knees are on either side of Taylor's waist as they kiss messily, Taylor pushing Ryan's dress slacks down his thighs and groping at his ass again.

"I want - can you-" Ryan says, blushing at whatever's going through his head. Taylor doesn't need to be a mind-reader to know that he'd look fucking amazing on his knees.

"Like this?" He asks, sliding to the ground as Ryan turns and gasps. He spread his legs, pushing his pants down past his knees, and Taylor leans forward to lick the head of his cock. "Yeah?"

"Yes, shit, please." Ryan's eyes are wide and glassy, looking dazed as he clenches his fists by his sides. Taylor sucks a mark into Ryan's inner thigh, holding his squirming hips down.

"You can touch if you need to," Taylor says before sinking his mouth down over Ryan's cock. He gasps and immediately bites his lip, and Taylor scrunches his eyebrows and pulls back. "We're the only ones here, you know."

"I, uh-" Taylor cuts off the rest of his words as he goes down halfway, Ryan letting out a choked whine. He bobs his head slowly, one hand at the base while the other slides up Ryan's thigh and pinches. His cock jerks in Taylor's mouth, barely grazing his teeth, and Ryan moans satisfyingly.

Soon, Ryan gets the message to set his hands in Taylor's hair, stroking it as Taylor relaxes his throat and steadily takes Ryan deeper and deeper. Taylor's eyes prick with tears as they flutter shut, Ryan's cock bumping the back of his throat. Ryan lets out a strangled groan, fingers clenching around Taylor's messy locks and head tilting back.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck-" Taylor was right about his decreased speech during actual sex, and although he prefers to hear how his partner feels, Ryan's attempts to control himself are achingly hot. Taylor wants to take all that control away.

He pulls back and twists his tongue around Ryan's length, alternating between sucking and licking as Ryan whines high in the back of his throat. Taylor takes his hand off Ryan's cock and slides both hands up his thighs, and Ryan lists forward into the touch as Taylor rubs them, then grips them bruisingly hard.

Ryan takes one hand away, and Taylor opens his eyes just in time to see Ryan twist his nipple between his fingers. Taylor gasps and chokes at Ryan's resulting wet gasp, pulling back and taking a few seconds before sliding back down even further.

With one hand Taylor taps Ryan's hip, the other reaching into his own unzipped pants to jerk himself off. Ryan's letting out little whimpers as he plays with his nipple, finally doing as Taylor had silently suggested and fucking his throat.

He comes silently, hand on his chest and Taylor's mouth around his cock. Taylor pulls back and jerks himself the rest of the way, too turned on to bother pushing down his pants. He comes on a groan, biting Ryan's thigh. Ryan is panting above him, squeaking as Taylor rests his chin on the bite, cheek brushing his dick.

"Oh my god," he rasps, and Taylor smirks.

"Yeah?"

"Fuckin' love you," Ryan smiles weakly, and Taylor climbs up onto his lap and grins in his face.

"Love you too."

Taylor knows they need to talk about whatever the fuck just happened (some damn good shit), but right now, he's content to press his body to Ryan's and synchronize their breaths, pressing the occasional kiss to Ryan's slack mouth.

Why break the perfect silence?


End file.
